Summary

The author reflects on the challenges of managing tasks and the guilt associated with not completing a traditional to-do list, while recognizing the value in the everyday acts of caregiving and living according to personal values.

Abstract

The author shares a personal journey of struggling with completing tasks on a to-do list, such as sending a package to her grandmother with dementia, which took nine months. Despite the guilt and feelings of failure, she comes to realize that her daily life is filled with meaningful activities that align with her values, such as caring for her children, maintaining the household, and nurturing relationships. She contrasts the traditional view of productivity with a more holistic approach that acknowledges the significance of unlisted yet valuable tasks. The author cites Libby Ludlow's perspective on daily productivity, emphasizing that a successful day should be measured by living out one's values rather than the number of tasks completed. The author also acknowledges her limits and the need for self-compassion during demanding seasons of life.

Opinions

The author believes that the traditional measure of productivity, such as crossing off tasks, does not fully capture the value of her daily contributions.
She expresses self-doubt and questions whether she has ADHD or simply lacks a good system, but ultimately concludes that her efforts align with her priorities and values.
The author feels a tension between societal expectations of productivity and the reality of her daily accomplishments, which include caregiving and maintaining her family's well-being.
She recognizes the importance of self-care and setting boundaries, understanding that her capacity has limits and that it's okay to not accomplish everything on her list.
The author advocates for a redefinition of success, focusing on living out one's values and the quality of interactions rather than the quantity of tasks completed.
She acknowledges the emotional toll of not meeting self-imposed expectations but finds solace in the divine wisdom that created human beings with finite capabilities.
The author encourages readers to embrace their humanity, ask for help when needed, and recognize that each life season is temporary and will eventually change.

Every Day, I Fail to Get Things Done

Because I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing.

I sent a package to my grandma today. She lives in California. She has dementia. She just turned 95.

No, let me start over. I should have started by saying this: I have failed to send my grandma a package for the last nine months, at least.

I asked some friends to pray for her — lonely, confused, living in a new place, not knowing who anyone is. One kind friend offered to knit her a twiddle muff. A few weeks later she gave it to me and asked, “Do you want me to send it to her, or do you want to send it to her?” I said I would send it so I could include a letter to her.

I immediately regretted my decision. I have a bad track record for Getting Things Done.

That twiddle muff sat on a shelf, and then it sat on my dresser, and then it went in a box when we moved in November, and it continued to migrate from shelf to dresser, from pile to pile, until today.

A couple of months ago I wrote her a letter. It was before her birthday so I wrote that this was an early birthday present. But then her birthday came and went so I threw out the first letter and wrote her another one. I told her that this was a late birthday present.

I further complicated things by deciding to make her a photo album. I thought, perhaps, that even if she couldn’t remember who we were, it would be nice to look at pictures of her granddaughter and her four great-grandchildren.

The length of time from deciding to put together a photo album, to choosing pictures, to ordering prints, to buying a photo album, to putting pictures in the photo album, to writing descriptions of the pictures so she would know who the people were, to buying a bubble mailer because we threw all our saved ones away in the move, to placing twiddle muff and photo album and letter into the bubble mailer, to going into the post office, and finally sending it off, was about three months.

But today, I sent it.

I’m torn between celebration and self-hatred.

I feel like a failure a lot. I write to-do lists and don’t do the things on them. Mop the floors, send that birthday card, schedule a dentist appointment, weed the garden, prep some snacks, take the donations to Goodwill, recycle the electronics, go berry picking, organize the school room, make curtains, call a friend, buy my son a new pair of shoes. They sit on my to-do list like gravestones, never moving.

Years and years of failing to Get Things Done has brought me to the point of feeling defeated as soon as a “should” enters my brain.

I have wondered: do I have ADHD? Do I just suck at life and need to try harder? Do I need a new system, to-do app, routine chart, or schedule?

When I’m wise, I step back and realize that the answer is no to all of those questions.

Because I do Get Things Done. In the words of Libby Ludlow describing her maternity leave,

I got an unbelievable amount done. They just weren’t things on my “list.”

— A New Way to Look at Daily Productivity

Here are some of the things I “get done” most days:

Make my bed. Get dressed. Make sure the kids get dressed. Pray and read scripture. Do a load of laundry. Nurse the baby. Keep the baby from eating legos or falling down the stairs. Change diapers. Change clothes that have been soiled by yogurt or bodily fluids. Unload the dishwasher. Load the dishwasher. Make breakfast. Make lunch. Make dinner. Make snacks. Make sure I eat, too. Wash the high chair tray 17 times. Take supplements & medication for my autoimmune condition. Supervise chores. Facilitate learning. Moderate sibling squabbles. Calm meltdowns. Reason with an unreasonable five-year-old. Act as caregiver, companion, therapist, motivator, comforter, personal chef, and parent for a disabled child with a mental health condition. Put the baby down for a nap. Answer the phone when the doctor/care coordinator/therapist/psychiatrist calls. Navigate marital disagreements. Attend therapy. Find a moment to rest. Listen to Minecraft monologues. Write. Play games with the kids. Move my body. Get fresh air. Complete homeschool paperwork. Wipe away tears. Cry my own tears. Run the robovac so the ants don’t find the crumbs under the high chair. Put the kids to bed. Spend time with my husband. Set up my coffee for tomorrow. Read a few pages of a good book. Wake up in the night to take a child to the bathroom.

That’s why it took me nine months to send my Grandma her twiddle muff and photo album. That’s why my kids haven’t been to the dentist in a while. That’s why my yard is full of weeds and I didn’t plant a vegetable garden this year.

And that is okay.

I don’t suck at life. I don’t have ADHD (although stress and lack of sleep sometimes make me feel like I do). I don’t just need a better system.

I’m doing exactly what I should be doing.

A successful day is no longer the one with the most crossed-off tasks, but one spent living out my values.

— A New Way to Look at Daily Productivity by Libby Ludlow

Now, I do have values that I am not living out right now as much as I want to: feasting on scripture, cooking everything from scratch, buying local food, opening my home in hospitality, exploring nature, nurturing my marriage, and maintaining a clean & organized home, to name a few. And that’s hard. I feel sad when I look at the produce in my Walmart pickup order. I feel frustrated by the dust bunnies on the stairs. I feel guilty for not loving my husband or friends or God as well as I want to.

I certainly have room to grow. I pray that God would continue his good work in me and help me to be more loving, more wise, more organized.

And I also recognize that I have limits. And I’m living a season of life that brings those limits to the forefront every minute of every day.

The Hope of a Grapevine

I have had my doubts that this ramshackle brown vine was alive. Through the long winter it looked like an old rope…

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God, in His infinite wisdom, created me, created you, as human beings with human finitude. This was an intentional choice. My limits do not make me a failure, they make me a human.

So let’s be human today. Let’s ask God to transform us more and more into his likeness, while at the same time not beating ourselves up for the things we didn’t accomplish because we were too busy doing all the things that don’t get written on to-do lists.

Let’s steward what has been given to us, let’s ask for help, and let’s remember that this season, whatever it is, will not last forever.

Let’s read more than a few pages of a good book and feel not one iota of guilt.

I needed this reminder today as I handed my grandma’s package across the post office counter, many months later than I intended. Maybe you need this reminder today, too.

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